


sweetheart

by kettsinn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cisgender, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Gender or Sex Swap, Harry Potter Next Generation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, Snapshots, Subspace, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettsinn/pseuds/kettsinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rose sinks to her knees, she looks up at Pia and sees a woman haloed by light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweetheart

There is a sensation that links Scorpia and the ice perfectly.

When Rose steps onto the ice and pushes off the boards, she floats across the frictionless surface and it's beautiful. Jagged swirls of frost, intricate squares overlapping each other, glitter in the spelled lanterns that hover above the rink. She floats, carried by her skates, and feels weightless for the first time - every time. All the worries and all the stresses of life pool out of her where she is connected to the ice; it’s a letting go of all tension, the releasing of a taut breath that’s been held in too long.

Slipping into the muted space that Pia takes her to is the same. The feeling is elongated and there may not be any ice, but when Rose sinks to her knees she looks up at Pia and sees a woman haloed by light. It makes her feel religious to be there, staring up at an illuminated figure.

Malfoy reaches out to trace a finger down the smooth curve of Rose’s jaw. “You look so pretty, darling. Is this what you wanted? To kneel here, waiting for me to tell you what to do?”

Rose nods, mouth parched all of a sudden. She is, she wants to, she does. Coherent words are a challenge when Malfoy’s finger traces down her neck, tickling the path of her collar bones.

Rose’s skin feels on fire as Pia starts to trace patterns down her arms. If there is a rhythm to the movements, she can’t tell. Looping up around the knob of her shoulder, down to circle around the sensitive skin of her wrist. The hard lines of Malfoy’s fingernails leave invisible impressions in her skin like her body is an ice rink and Pia’s fingers are the blades of their skates.

Seconds or minutes or hours could pass while Pia’s fingers trace down Rose’s body, and she would have no idea. It’s hard to stay in control of her mind, to keep hold of herself when there is no way to predict the overwhelming lightness of the touch. Sensation is everywhere at once. Keeping Rose on edge with the absence of any firmer touch, everything too soft and too gentle.

Her mouth is humid, breath hurried, which takes a while for Rose to understand. She is panting. From nothing more than withstanding the tender patterns that Malfoy sweeps down her.

Pia watches Rose with an intense and focused look in her eyes. There is no quarter in them, no leeway that will allow Rose to disappear safely into the corners of her brain.

It takes longer than Rose expects to gather the words into her mouth. “Can I eat you out?”

Malfoy brings her fingers up from sketching a triangular shape at top of Rose’s spine. One finger finds its way into Rose’s mouth and presses down against her tongue as Malfoy hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps. Will you be able to get me off like that?”

“Ahuh,” Rose responses, nodding eagerly. She can feel the fierce warmth of a blush bloom in her cheeks as Pia raises her eyebrow, smirk growing.

“Keen, are you? Keen to pleasure me?”

A short laugh, part-giggle part-bark, huffs out of Rose. It might be nerves - or the sheer ridiculousness of this situation - or frustrated lust that causes her to make the noise. It dies immediately when Malfoy sighs and twists Rose’s nipple. Pain shoots down the left side of her ribs, and she whines pitifully.

“Oh, dear.” Malfoy’s tone is full of fake pity, condescending in a way that makes the pain brighter somehow.

The beautiful, gorgeous space that Rose had been sliding through slips further away from her as the pain drums beneath her skin. “That hurt.”

“Yes. It was meant to, sweetheart.” Malfoy tilts her head to the side. “Would you like to stop?”

“No,” Rose says, belligerent. She resents having her bubbly, cream-rich space disturbed. A little bit of pain is fine. “It’s good.”

Malfoy frowns. “Good or ‘good’? There’s a difference, you know.” “Yes, I know. Could you just get on with it, please?”

The heat in her voice holds something that disagrees with Pia, however, and her frown doesn’t get any lighter. “Sorry, do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” Rose wants to roll her eyes. Obviously she’s sorry for what just happened.

Why do they have to reiterate the point? They were both there. “Sorry for laughing.”

“It’s not just about laughing, though, is it Rose,” Malfoy hisses in response, voice laced with just enough menace to have the littleness in Rose skittering to do better. “Do you think that, out of the two of us, I am the one whose pleasure is under scrutiny? Your grades are poor. Your attitude is appalling. You’ve been rude, quarrelsome. So tell me. Out of the two of us, who deserves to come first? I certainly don’t think that it’s you.”

“You do,” Rose whispers. Meekness has her shoulders dropping, body sinking towards the floor even though he knees can’t bend any closer to the ground. “You deserve to come first.”

“Perhaps you don’t deserve to come at all.” Malfoy’s expression is one facial muscle away from total revulsion. Arousal spreads long fingers of hot sensation out from Rose’s groin, shuddering up to her nipples. It’s as though she is something foul on the bottom of Pia’s shoe and she can’t decide whether to scrap Rose off or demean herself into touching her.

Malfoy ignores the groan that spills out of Rose, eyes glittering with de- lighted menace. “I suppose it depends on how well you can bring me off. If I start to get bored, then...well, why don’t you give me a go and we’ll decide what to do after that. Hmm?”

The chance to bury her face in-between the heat of Pia’s thighs is over- whelming, more so now that Rose has been told she must. She has to if she wants the ache in her cunt to be acknowledged.

A shudder slides down her spine. Its anticipatory and eager like Rose’s desire to move her mouth five inches closer to Pia, to press a reverent kiss to the place where her hip meets her thigh.

Pia hasn’t said that it would be alright for her to do that, though. Rose is tempted to move forward and press a kiss there anyway. But what if Malfoy changed her mind then? What if she called this off and Rose never got the chance to emboss the way her ash hair glows in the light from the wall sconces.

Rose huffs a breath against the smooth skin of Pia’s thigh, leans down and begins to press small kisses against the curve of her knee, inching her way to- wards the crease of her hips. Pia’s skin is warm, smooth, with a hint of salt that comes from wearing tights.

A hand settles in her hair, guiding her further inwards, until Rose’s nose is barely an inch away from Pia’s sex. Heat spools out before her mouth. The musky fragrance of slick heat is almost oppressive, but there’s barely time for Rose to decide whether she particularly likes that before Pia directs her, “Are you going to lick or do I have to tell you how to do that as well?”

Rose whimpers, moving her tongue in broad strokes from the base of Pia’s hole to the tip of her clit. Light sucks near the tight skin of her cunt, a soft tug on Pia’s clit that makes her breathing a rough, uneven sound.

“You aren’t...terrible...at this.” Pia hand strokes evenly down Rose’s hair, playing with the fine strands at the nape of her neck as though Rose is having no effect on her. “Press into me and I’ll consider giving you something to rut against.”

She wants to ask for that, yes, but sentences seem so far away. Words are bright colours in the mist of her mind.

Pia’s cunt is a slick, pulsing heat against Rose’s lips, and when Rose presses the brunt of her tongue up against the rim of Pia’s entrance, the woman lets loose a cut-off groan.

A brief sensation against Rose’s palm remind her that she has arms, Pia’s feet shuffling in place as her legs spasm around Rose’s head. Reaching up, she kneads her thumbs against a strong hipbone, moving the tips of her fingers up, up until she can brush the sensitive buds of Pia’s nipples.

Pia grinds her cunt down onto Rose’s face until she can hardly breath, until her world is reduced to the visceral taste of sex and split. Rose laps desperately at Pia’s clit, savouring the small gush of liquid that floods her mouth when Rose circles the end of her tongue around Pia’s entrance.

The sensation drags Rose back to an awareness of the throbbing be- tween her thighs, the lower half of her body lacking even touch as a small re- lease. Her spin aches as she tightens and relaxes her muscles in small pulses; anything to get some pressure to satisfy the needy thrum of her cunt.

Pia’s hips buck twice, hard, against Rose’s mouth and liquid heat spills hot over Rose’s mouth and chin, a fine drop sliding off her chin, down to the hollow of her clavicle.

Pia shudders, stepping back away from Rose, and lets loose a low breath. “Well. Fuck.”

“I think you’ve damaged my jaw permanently,” Rose says, clicking her jaw from side-to-side. The ripple of heat in her gut is still there, hungry, and pulsing. She can wait to get off, though. She probably needs to, actually; lunch is almost over.

Malfoy shrugs, wicked grin growing on her face. “Worth it.”

Rose can’t stop herself from blushing, so ignores it. The whole blushing thing is becoming 100% ridiculous. She’s one more blush away from becoming a Victorian Heroine in one of her Mum’s Muggle Romance books, which is nothing she’s ever wanted to be.

“It was alright, sure.”

“Sure,” Pia parrots. “Postlethwaite told me they’re serving rice pudding with cinnamon sultanas for lunch. You want to shower and go together?”

“Uhm.” In her heart, Rose wants to say yes; but her life is too short to put up with the prolonged bullshit she’ll receive from Albus if her and Pia walk in together. Might as well charm the statues of armour to sing Pachelbel everytime they go to the same class.

Merlin, she wants more than anything to get back on the floor and insist that Pia let her grind one off against her thigh. If only there was time.

Instead, she stands up, brushing dust off her robes, and passing Pia her bra from where it fell earlier. “I can’t. Thank you, though. I’ll have to get changed and shower before getting back to revision. Rice pudding is almost my favourite dish though.”

“Almost? What is your favourite dish?”

“Apple crumble. Always. With custard or cream. It makes me think of sitting inside at home. Watching August rainstorms with my Dad.”

“Ah, the idyllic weather of England.”

Pia looks relaxed, soft and light in a way that transports Rose to that perfect moment where she was on her knees before Pia, floating in the warm whiteness of a blissed-out brain. She lingers in the moment too long though, and when she checks back into the room a few seconds later, Pia’s smile has dimmed into a more neutral thing.

Its awkward. Rose gestures towards the door with a floppy hand. “See you round, Malfoy. Pia.”

“Bye, Rose,” comes the reply so quiet that Rose almost misses it, closing the thick wooden door behind her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Purely PWP that I've rescued from the text dump that made up my work for NaNo15. Hopefully I'll get round to editing the 50k of Pia/Rose femslash with ice hockey that I wrote, but...
> 
> This is an unbeta'd work. I welcome concrit, but I'm also a gentle soul so please be nice with your phrasing. Thank you to everyone who reads this, and kudos/comments are truly appreciated :)


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